


For Now

by Atanih88



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: First Time, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:04:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/pseuds/Atanih88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you can't deal with the thoughts, you try to lose them another way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2light4dark at valentine_smut . The prompt was 'void', I hope I used it well and that the recipient enjoys this : ) and happy Valentine's.

Hazel sat on the bed, his back pressed to the cold blue wall. The sheets were bunched around his feet, his legs pulled up so that his thighs pressed against his chest. His arms were locked tight around his legs, his forehead pressing to the top of his knees and making the silver strands of his hair spill over to cover any glimpse that one might have had of his face. It was a sharp contrast to the black that covered his legs.

His eyes were open. They saw nothing but that black.

The wall pressed hard to the nubs of his spine but he didn't notice it.

For now that voice was quiet. For now.

The room was cold, not the quality that they had become accustomed to in their travels since arriving at Shangri La, but Hazel hadn't been in the right frame of mind to think about that and neither had the Sanzo party. They'd just headed for the nearest village and bunked down.

All Hazel had done when on arrival, was to remove his robes and shoes then crawl into bed. He hadn't said more than a word to Gat and when he had left the room with Cho Hakkai, Hazel hadn't even looked up.

The thing was inside him somewhere. That's all he could think of.

The single window which had been left wide open brushed the scent of the night air into the room. The chill touched the thin material of his shirt and slipped inside through his open collar and the spaces between the buttons, touching his skin and making it tingle before turning it cooler.

There was disgust rising inside him in the shape of bile in the back of his throat. The need to throw up and choke everything out until that thing was out of him was strong but even in the numbed state, Hazel knew it wasn't possible.

An exorcist with a monster inside him. Hazel snickered. How laughable.

 _I wonder what you'd say Master._

Hazel allowed his eyes to close, his tired mind—drained from battling the other presence within his body, giving in to the strain and craving the soothing balm of rest.  


~

There was something warm on his shoulder. Heavy, clinging and pressing through his shirt into the smooth skin beneath it.

"Hazel... I brought food. Wake up."

The low deep tone slid into the black bottomless dream and he allowed himself to rise through it, slowly coming to in stages. The press of the low light against his eyelids, the ache that had spread its roots down his lower back, making itself known with the smallest shift he made.

"Hazel...?"

"I heard you." He murmured, lifting his head from where it had been resting on his knees since he'd fallen asleep.

Hazel felt his cheek tingle as the blood rushed back to the area that had been pressed against his knee and he turned his gaze up to the man standing over him, huge body blocking out the light that fell in a rectangle from the open door of the room. The bandanna had been taken off, the shirt had been unbuttoned at the top and the native waistcoat discarded. Hazel allowed his eyes to linger for a second on the scarred face—something that oddly enough had come to ground him—before he looked away.

His legs eased back down, bare feet pushing the sheets away as the mattress gave a little beneath them. Blue eyes were darkened to indigo from the blackness of the room they swept and widened a fraction when Hazel realised how dark it had gotten out. There was no light coming in from the window.

"Mercy, it's already night time?" He looked back at Gat who still hadn't moved from his spot and this time he registered the tray Gat carried on his left hand.

"You slept through dinner."

There was a glass of water on the tray, the side of it became silver as Gat shifted and the yellow light slid over his shoulder to fall over the plate of food and the whispers of steam that rose from it.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"You were worn out. I thought it'd be best if you rested."

"Hm. In any case, I'm afraid I'm not hungry just yet." Pushing his hair back from his face, Hazel swung his feet over the side of the bed, the cold of the floor stinging the soles of his feet as they touched down.

"They said you should eat something, you still haven't recovered from fighting him off."

Hazel's shoulders stiffened, his mouth thinned. But then he was stood up. "I'm fine." There wasn't much space in the room and Gat was big enough to block at least half of what space _was_ there. "Now—do they at least have a decent bathin' area at this place?"

"They have a bathing room just across the corridor." Gat said, turning around now and walking to the small square of a table that was pressed against one corner of the room with one single chair tucked into it. He moved over to it, his steps silent in the loud silence of the room and he set the tray of food down on top of it, making the water in the glass tremble.

"That's fine. Leave the food, I'm sure it'll keep."

As Gat turned back to face Hazel, he wasn't surprised by the long fingers that came up to brush against the feather that dangled from one of his thick twists at the front.

"Come along Gat, you can help wash me instead." And although Hazel's voice didn't have its usual ring of authority, Gat's eyes still followed him as he brushed past, his gait very reminiscent of a cat's as his lingering fingers released the feather and it fell back against Gat's shoulder.

Gat watched that walk for a little longer, taking in the arms that the sleeveless undershirt revealed. The pale skin stretched over taut slim muscle. His gaze shifted over the glimpse of elegant neck, hidden by light coloured hair that shone white as Hazel stepped into the light outside of their room.

Although Gat could see that Hazel was still shaken, it was obvious he was a little more in control. Still, even if he was feeling calmer about this new situation, it wasn't the best idea to be walking around when he'd barely gotten any rest or eaten properly, in the time it had taken them to gather the more injured of their now temporary group and transport themselves to an inn.

Before following him, Gat rummaged around until he found towels neatly folded at the bottom of the last drawer, in the only waist high churned brown storage that was in the room. Taking them, he put them over his shoulder before he too stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him before stepping up to the one opposite which Hazel hadn't completely closed.

The sound of water filling up a bucket could be heard, the sound getting deeper and the gurgle becoming quieter.

Sliding it open, Gat stepped inside and he saw that Hazel was already setting down a second bucket and then straightening up. His hands caught the material of the undershirt he wore and tugged up, arms crossing and lifting as he pulled the white material up until it tugged at his hair, Before letting the strands fall back down to cover his nape as it came the rest of the way off and he tossed into a corner of the room.

Gat watched, silent as Hazel continued to undress, the towels still over his shoulder and well aware that Hazel knew he was in the room. He'd been silent coming in but there was no doubt that Hazel knew.

Gat's gaze trailed down the line of Hazel's spine, his eyes straying from it ocassionally on their way down as they spotted the odd silvery lines of raised skin from fights in which Gat hadn't always managed to fully cover the other man.

It fascinated him.

This man that smiled so easily at the world and took (or used to take) it upon himself to right things he thought he needed to. Things that could rarely be seen as black and white.

But still, this man's back was like the rest of his body. It had a quiet strength to it that was hidden by the slim muscles, the narrow waist—the elegant sweep of his back...

That strength was forgotten as the trousers were eased over a firm rear. The skin there looked so white and smooth. Just like the thighs—the hint of balls as Hazel bent a little more to tug the trousers the rest of the way off, displaying the backs of his knees, the swell of the calves that tapered down into a slim line of bone that curved into heel.

The trousers made the same rippling sound of cloth being thrown as Hazel's shirt had as it was tossed away before Hazel stepped into the small square, carefully lifting one foot—stepping down—then the other.

As he watched, Gat thought what he had many times before when watching the other man.

Hazel could've almost been labelled delicate.

When Hazel stooped to pick up one of the buckets he'd set down earlier, Gat finally moved away from the door. He pulled the two towels from his shoulder and lay them over the sink next to the door carefully. And when Hazel looked over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised and blue eyes narrowed on him, he moved quickly to the buckets that had already been set down and lifted it up with ease, not one tremble visible in his arms as the heavy thing was lifted.

As the hot water began to descend on him, Hazel just let his head fall forward with it. He felt his hair ripple against his cheek as the water slid through it, warming his skin for a brief second before that heat lingered and was brushed away with the touch of the cold air—leaving his hair plastered to his cheeks like wet string and his body shivering from the loss of warmth that had briefly bathed it.

Hazel didn't bother to look when he heard the sound of cloth being dunked, or when he heard something being scrubbed. His eyes remained fixed on the wall, trying to keep his body from shivering. When the rough wet cloth touched the small of his back he flinched, his foot slipping a little on the slick ground of the tub.

He froze though, locking perfectly into place when a big hand curved over his hip and anchored him, the grip firm and warm on his hot skin. And unsconsciously, his body calmed under it.

The cloth began to move on his back. Up and down in small circular motions. It travelled up his spine, a delicious scratch to its texture that made him sigh and his head roll to the side and then back—languid.

"Make sure you get everything, y'hear?"

Gat didn't answer, he was focused on his task. Too focused.

Around the side, just touching the ribcage, back to the centre and up, circle, circle—right between the shoulder blades, Hazel's back arching that little bit and the cloth following it all the way down the spine again in one long sweep, _just_ touching the cleft of Hazel's rear before sweeping back up. A sigh—up and over one shoulder, rubbing, kneading and working the soap suds onto the skin until swirling patterns of small white bubbles were left on it and just under that, a soft redness.

"Yours arms Hazel..." Gat murmured the words, not quite sure why he felt the need to maintain that quietness. He was still holding onto Hazel with his other hand since Hazel hadn't objected. Gat was glad he hadn't.

The skin against his hand was warm under the slickness, soft as it covered the sharp angle of bone pressing into his palm. Gat's gaze lifted when he caught the movement of Hazel's hands as his arms lifted, stretching out to his sides, slightly bent as if the elbows were weighing them down.

As Gat allowed his hand to follow the line of Hazel's right arm he was suprised to find his breathing wasn't as steady as it usually was, and on every slide of the cloth further along that line he'd hold his breath in for a little bit longer. The cloth dipped around to the inside of Hazel's elbow and rubbed gently before sliding further where Gat spanned the thickness of Hazel's wrist with his hand, the cloth a glove between their skin as he easily locked his hand around the slim wrist.

"Is this what y'call bathin' someone...? Gatti?"  
The proper use of his name in a hoarse voice made Gat's fingers tighten around Hazel's wrist in reflex and glance up at the head that was still turned away from him—lowered once more, but Gat had no problem staring at the naked neck that was decorated with soaked silver.

"Is there something wrong?" Gat asked, face still expressionless. But his mouth was dry, his trousers—tighter. His shirt was clinging to his skin. He knew what this was but he didn't do anything about it. Self control was something he knew well, so he merely stood there, his hand still curled around the wrist so much smaller than his as the suds slid slowly down Hazel's back.

Hazel sighed and his head was leaning back—neck arching enough that Gat took a step forward for fear that Hazel would lose his balance. He didn't notice that his hand was still holding onto him or that it had tightened beyond a comfortable pressure.

The back of Hazel's head touched Gat's left shoulder and then the wrist that he was holding onto was being lowered. It wasn't shaking off his fingers, but just leading them closer to a flat stomach not yet touched by soap. The back of his thumb pressed to that firm stomach as Hazel's hand flattened over his own body. And then it slid lower, dragging Gat's hand with it until his thumb was brushing against tiny hairs.

Hazel shuddered, shoulders trembling and a little hitched gasp escaping him. His spine curved as his body curled forwards, making his body press back against Gat's. His other hand lifted and pried Gat's hand loose, lifting it off his wrist and then guiding it and the cloth Gat still held, to curl around his erection.

"Hhh..."

Gat's hand could only feel the hardness filling it. It couldn't feel the soft skin that stretched over the erect cock, the cloth was around it instead—and as his hand began to move, that soft exhalation breathed out just a few seconds before came again, only this time with a metalic 'nnn' scratching the air at the end of it.

The rough texture of the cloth was working up and down his length and Hazel's thoughts, his panics, his fears melted at the sensation. He let the pleasure that friction—that ghost of the pad of a thumb over the slit of the head—seep into his veins and float up, filling the black void that fear had dug out in his center.

Behind him he could feel Gat pressing against his backside, rubbing himself slowly with deliberate pressure between his cheeks. Those thrusts were at the same pace as the hand on his cock. Pumping with a firm tight grip. Hazel could feel Gat's shirt clinging to his wet back but the sensation of it sticking and unsticking to his skin, just helped him leave more of his thoughts behind and instead focus on the pleasure flaring up—warming his stomach and tightening his balls. So when Gat's hand remained slow, his hand locked around his instantly and moved it, Hazel's pace a lot more urgent than Gat's as he rocked back against him.

Gat's trousers chafed against his skin and Hazel wished he'd just asked him to get in with him because then he'd be feeling Gat sliding against him with nothing between them and it'd feel so much better—so much smoother, so much more tempting to bend over and ask him to just push in and make him groan—make him come, scrape out every thought, every trace of _him_ from inside him.

But there was no time.

Not right now.

He could feel Gat's nose pressing against his ear. He could hear the quiet groans he made as he rocked harder against his ass, tightening his hand around Hazel's erection when Hazel didn't expect it and pulling a raw call of his name from the back of his throat.

"Yes..." Hazel's mouth fell open, his hips snapping backwards and forwards— _right there, right—almost—almost hhhn..._

And Gat's hand that had been biting into his hip finally slipped away, slid smoothly between his legs, forefinger and index finger ghosting their way behind his balls and rubbing, just the pads—pressing—and it made him shudder—made his teeth bite into his lower lip, drag at it Hazel's hand shot behind him, cupping the back of Gat's hand as his legs weakened and he came with a muffled groan to the feel of Gat pulling him back against him hard, and giving one rough thrust against his ass.

Gat came with a quiet sound, so quiet Hazel almost missed it. But Gat's hold on him tightened to the point of pain and was more of an indication of his orgasm, than that barely discernable sound.

They stood still then, both calming down. Hazel's eyes closed and he focused on evening out his breathing.

The void was gone for now. For now.

"You'll have to start all over again..." Hazel murmured, his eyes still closed.

"Hazel...?"

"You won't need your clothes for this."


End file.
